


Smiles for Zwaardsrust

by midnight_marimba



Series: Salty Stallion Sojourns [1]
Category: Dragon Quest XI
Genre: Comfort, Grief/Mourning, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-10
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2020-02-29 09:35:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18775600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnight_marimba/pseuds/midnight_marimba
Summary: Dave meets Sylvando for the first time while coming to terms with the 10-year anniversary of the fall of Zwaardsrust.





	Smiles for Zwaardsrust

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the books in Lonalulu - Cannon Lady’s House and in Zwaardsrust Region - Warrior’s Rest Inn. Set about 11 years before the start of the game.
> 
> I don't think archive warnings quite apply, but Dave had some heavy history to unpack, and probably "major character death" is applicable from his perspective.

“Captain, we want out.”

Dave stared at the woman he’d relied on for three years as his second-in-command. Haley was reliable, bold, courageous, charismatic, and smart enough to keep herself and those standing next to her alive through battle after battle. He’d been a fool not to promote before her superior officers had all been lost. Maybe there would be more of them left. Now, today, she was standing on the deck before him and staring at his feet.

He looked around at the men fanned out behind her. All six of them wore a similar posture. Technically standing at parade rest, but shoulders slumped, faces turned to look anywhere besides directly at him. The pink bands tied to serve as narrow masks around their eyes did nothing to hide the tension around their mouths.

“Out?” he asked, blankly.

“We want to retire. Dave, it’s been nearly ten years,” Haley said, suddenly dropping the formality and meeting his gaze. “Maybe we’ve done some good, but how long are we supposed to keep going? Fighting isn’t going to bring anyone back. Fighting means we still keep losing each other. We want to stop and just try living.”

Dave’s mouth twisted under his own mask, reminded of the prior week’s raid against the pirate ship. His crew was good, and since they’d defeated the strongest and most notorious brigands taking advantage of the seas in years past, these pirates were young and untried, but he’d still lost one man. The first in a year. He’d almost begun to get used to the feeling of not losing people.

“We’re going to get off in Gondolia. You should be able to find some new crew there if you want. Or you could give it up, too. Put away the mask, Dave.”

Dave failed to say anything for a long moment, blindsided, throat tightening as the implications of what she was saying began to sink in. Haley’s eyes dropped to the deck again.

“Sorry, Captain.”

He cleared his throat. “You’re sure?” he asked, gruffly.

Heads nodded all around.

“All right. All right. Let me sort out our funds. I’ll make sure each of you has something to take away with you.”

“We aren’t asking for that, Captain.”

“You deserve it, anyway. All of you deserve so much better than what we’ve gotten.” His throat tightened again, and he gave them a sharp nod before abruptly turning and sweeping off below decks.

Haley found him kneeling in the hold, where he was carefully dividing their stock of coins into seven portions.

“Seven? Dave, you shouldn’t give us everything.”

“I’ll keep the goods. That’s enough.” He knew by now where to sell the unmarked luxury goods they’d taken back from pirates, where to return identifiable heirlooms for a reward, and where to donate necessities as humanitarian aid. “You have a plan?”

“We’re going to split into smaller groups and try different towns. We know nowhere’s really safe, but it’s a comfort to think that if something happens to a couple of us, the rest of us will go on living somewhere in the world.”

“That’s one way to look at it.”

“But I wouldn’t mind if you came with me, you know. I was thinking of trying Gallopolis. See if I can figure out horses. You could try living in one place. Settle down, start a family?”

He shook his head. “I don’t think I’m a family man. Pretty sure I’d break a baby.” Or a woman, he thought, but didn’t say it to her, knowing she’d take offense to know he still thought of her as being in any way fragile.

“I’m sure you wouldn’t...”

He shook his head. “No. I’ll not leave the sea. You should take your fresh start.”

“Dave…”

“Why don’t you get the men together. We’ll open some brandy. Celebrate our last night together.” He was able to say it calmly, now. After dozens of speeches commemorating the sacrifices of the fallen, and each anniversary of the Fall, merely saying goodbye to his remaining comrades shouldn’t be a challenge. He took the part of himself that wanted to weep and be useless, and he shut it away, like always.

When they gathered together below decks, he took off his mask before accepting a glass. These were the only people left who knew whose face was underneath the mask of Dave the Privateer. Leaders of other port cities, or their militaries, would likely enough still recognize the youngest, most famous captain of the Zwaardsrustian Royal Navy. Some might suspect, true enough, but if he openly showed his face, with the telltale lavender tinge of his hair, there would be unavoidable questions. Like “Who gave you the right to act as a privateer in these waters?” And “Why don’t you come serve us now instead?” And “Why are you still alive, when your king and your country are all dead?”

Dave boxed away those gloomy thoughts and summoned the jovial tone he always used to reassure those under his command in moments of minor stress. “Well, it’s been a long run. I should be giving each of you a bucket of medals for heroism, so you can show them off and get your grandkids to listen to you one day, but I’m afraid you’ll have to settle for a few coins as your final bonus. I’d be honored if you’d keep your masks. Tuck them away in a chest, if you like, but don’t forget that you’ve made the seas far safer than they used to be.”

The crew relaxed at his warmth, and together with the brandy, stories began to flow. “Remember when…” Dave smiled along, even as he realized every story they told included at least one person who was dead, now. They’d begun with a crew of thirty. Now there were eight of them. Tomorrow, there would be one.

  


* * *

  


Dave let the crew leave the ship first, and he lingered until they were out of sight. They asked him to meet them for dinner, but he shook his head. The mask stayed on, from here. No eating in public. Or with other people, now.

Besides, it was easier to keep himself from pleading with them to stay if they weren’t there in front of him.

Mechanically, he began the routine of finding the dockmaster, paying for a small hand cart and the attention of the guards to keep his ship secure, and selecting items to take into the market. The process of offloading the goods took all of half a day, and then he found himself with nothing to do.

What was he supposed to do?

He could keep going after pirates. That was the last order his king had ever given him: “Go clear the pirate scourge from the sea, David. The strong who prey on the weak must be stopped.”

Indeed, they had accomplished much toward that goal. The pirates had gone from scourge to nuisance for most people on the water these days. A few guards or a sturdy looking crew was enough to deter most hostilities. Maybe there wasn’t a true need for his help any longer after all.

But what was the point of him, otherwise?

He wandered aimlessly through the town, finally joining a crowd gathered to watch a juggler, just so he’d have an excuse to stand still for a little while without having to talk to anyone. The young man cycled half a dozen figs through the air, and then began telling a humorous story about an old woman who tried to train her dog to climb trees and throw fruit down to her. Dave wasn’t in a mood for laughter, but the crowd got a chuckle out of it, and the young man smiled warmly at them. He ended his performance by gently tossing a fig to each of the small children standing in the front of the crowd, who accepted the treats with excitement.

“Come back tomorrow, when Sylvando the Fantastic plays his pipe!” called the performer. “And feel free to say hello anytime, darlings!”

Some of the crowd dispersed after that, but Dave watched others move forward to greet the man. Some dropped coins into a hat on the ground in front of him, but others only seemed to be offering enthusiastic compliments, and the man’s manner showed equal warmth to those without any monetary offerings.

Something about the performer’s interactions with his admirers reminded Dave of a moment long past. Young King Arnout, after a speech, stepping down to walk among his people for a time. The people, clustering around him, thrilled and a more than a little bit in love. Dave not least among them. He’d been fifteen when Arnout spoke to him, shook his hand, and Dave had signed up with the navy the next day. Said he was sixteen so they’d let him in, and since he was big for his age and strong from farm labor, they hadn’t challenged the claim.

On an impulse, Dave took a small handful of coins and drifted up to the hat to deposit them.

“Oh, honey, I absolutely adore your style! What’s your name?”

“Ah…” Dave found the performer smiling sweetly at him, and he raised a hand to the horn on the side of his mask, a little self-conscious. “It’s Dave.”

“Wonderful to meet you, Dave. I’m Sylvando, in case you missed it. I hope you enjoyed my little show.”

Dave gave a curt nod as he deposited his coins, then turned and retreated. The personal attention was too much.

He bought some food from a street vendor without paying attention to what it was, took it back to the ship, went below decks to take off his mask, and ate with little more notice of the substance. Then he laid on his bunk, and without anything left to occupy his time or attention, fully succumbed to the memories stirred up by the performer.

Arnout coming to personally welcome and thank the new recruits after their first month of training. Three years older, handsome, dressed in his formal gold and pink tabard, serious while speaking of their shared duty to the people of Zwaardsrust, smiling when he went down the line shaking hands. His hand was slightly rough and his skin caught against Dave’s, though the king’s callouses came from years of swordwork rather than handling farming implements.

The first time Dave spoke up to encourage his fellow recruits in a training exercise, thinking of the way Arnout spoke and trying to imitate him. He’d feared his commoner’s accent might spoil the effect, but the young men with him came from the same stock and responded well.

Arnout at the officer’s gathering after his promotion to lieutenant, greeting him by name.

Arnout entrusting him as new captain of an old navy ship with the task to defeat a sea drake known for raiding the coastline. “I’ve only heard good things about you, David. Go out and earn another reason for the people to praise you, eh?” Arnout after they returned victorious, formally commending them, and later drinking with them in celebration. Arnout clapping him on the shoulder. Telling stories of his own first victory leading true combat.

Arnout insisting he come along to meet King Carnelian during the Heliodoran training exercises on the Emerald Coast. “Carnelian, I think we’ve all done ourselves a disservice by only taking on noblemen’s sons for knightly training. I want you to meet our Captain David. He’s farmer-born, and he’s only nineteen...” Eighteen, really. “But he’s quite possibly our best navy captain. I’ll wager he can best any of your knights of the same age in a sparring match, if you’d care to make a little visit to the field.” A hard-fought match, and then Arnout’s warm, proud smile at Dave walking out of the sparring field, victorious.

Arnout lying in a field—

No. Arnout taking him to see the brand new royal ship for the first time. “David, I know I can trust you with my life. I want you permanently in charge of my flagship. Now, I’m tied up with politics here for some days yet, but she’s ready to go, and it’s a shame to waste her in the harbor. So I want you to take her on her maiden voyage and put her to work. Go clear the pirate scourge from the sea, David.”

Arnout lying in a field, covered in—

No. That first officer’s dinner. Arnout dressed in his pink formal tunic with ruffles and elaborate gold trim. Dave feeling a little ridiculous in his own fancy uniform, until Arnout noticed his unease and stepped over to chat. “Just be glad that’s all they make you wear. I wouldn’t mind putting on the old mess dress, but they told me I have to make myself recognizable.”

Arnout lying in a field, covered in blood and dirt, face down, recognizable first by the heraldry on his shield, still attached to his arm, a golden lion on pink. A dozen other knights lying around him, and soldiers, too many soldiers, strewn across the field. Corpses of monsters as well, but not enough of them. Obviously not nearly enough of them. Carrion birds coming to finish what the monsters had started.

The field itself, too close to where he grew up. Unrecognizable at first as their neighbor’s farm, because the farmhouse was destroyed. His own childhood home on the way to the city, gone as well. Only partial remains of his parents, his brothers. The lingering numb calm that cemented in him as he led his crew away in silence.

Then the city, the walls turned to rubble or melted, the beautiful wooden buildings burned to the ground. More used-to-be-people. Hardly any dead monsters among them. The people that Arnout loved, who loved Arnout. The people Dave was supposed to be protecting. Gone.

Still gone. Nearly ten years, and the world went on, but the entire kingdom he belonged to was gone. How was life anything like normal here, in this town, or any other, when a whole people could be wiped out in a day? You might step out for three days to do one quick job, and come back to find everything you’d ever known or loved had been utterly, irrevocably destroyed.

Haley was right. Fighting pirates wouldn’t bring them back. Fighting pirates had only lost him most of the rest of his people. Maybe he should have been protecting them all along, the only survivors of Zwaardsrust there in the crew of his navy ship, instead of protecting the faceless sea lanes.

  


* * *

  


Dave woke late, unsure when he’d finally drifted off, and began moving only due to habit built over years of orderly living. He felt restless and went to pace around the town again, avoiding the area where Haley had indicated the crew was going to seek temporary lodging.

He found the performer again. The tunes the man played on his pipe were simple, cheery, catchy, and didn’t fit Dave’s mood at all. But he stayed anyway. The performer’s pretty features and mannerisms were nothing like Arnout’s, but the shared regard between him and his audience needled him with a bittersweet nostalgia.

Dave drifted away after the performance, wanting solitude and unwilling to risk another conversation by stopping to tip the man.

He wandered to the north end of town, found an empty bit of walkway with a railing to lean against, and stared down into the sea. Thought about all the men under his command who he’d given a sea burial. Thought about Arnout, who he’d given to the waves in the same fashion, since all of the people left alive to care about him were navy, and no one wanted to dig into the blood-soaked land to form a grave. The number of casualties was so high that his men had muttered among themselves that it would take a year to bury all of the dead. No one had the heart for that.

Dave wondered if his own time would come, soon. It would be thankless of him to throw himself in after so many people had given their lives under his command, but perhaps he could find a worthy battle where the odds were stacked against him…

He shook his head, slowly, and a splash of color caught the corner of his eye. He turned and jumped to find the performer standing next to him, imitating him by peering down over the rail.

“Honey, I don’t know what you lost down there, but whatever it is, I’m afraid it’s probably gone for good.”

Dave flinched. “Yes. It is.”

“Oh, no. Was it important, darling? How can I help?”

“That’s...What are you doing here?”

“I came looking for you, of course, Dave. Everyone else I saw out there today left with a smile, but I couldn’t see your face, and your body language didn’t look very smiley. Are you all right?”

“What’s it matter?” Caught off-guard several times over, Dave failed to keep the bitterness entirely out of his voice.

“It matters quite a lot, to me. In fact, I’ve just decided to follow you until you tell me what’s wrong, so you might as well spit it out.”

Dave backed away. “It’s nothing I want to talk about. Nothing to be done about it, anyway.”

“Sometimes talking is doing something about it. Is it a secret?” The man inched closer.

“Something like that.”

“I’m very good at keeping secrets. So, you can tell me.”

“That’s not going to happen.”

“Well, maybe I can guess. Did you lose a family heirloom, perhaps? Something that belonged to someone you love?”

“Someone I love…” Dave muttered the phrase, low and sarcastic, and turned away to look back at the sea.

“You lost someone you love?” The man’s tone turned soft, gentle. Dave crossed his arms at the unaccustomed sympathy. “When did it happen?”

Dave stood silent, but the man waited patiently. They watched the waves lap against the stone of the city. Finally, feeling for just an instant that it would be nice to say it aloud, Dave admitted quietly, “Almost ten years ago.”

“You still love them.”

“...Yes.”

“The anniversary is coming up?”

“First day of next week.”

A surprising moment of silence from the nosy performer. Dave shifted a little to be able to see him out of the corner of his mask’s eyehole.

“Where are you from?” The question seemed for a moment like a non sequitur, and then Dave was afraid it wasn’t.

“I’ve been at sea a long while,” he said, clumsily attempting deflection.

“That’s the same day Zwaardsrust fell.”

“Why do you know that?”

“I once knew someone who observed the day. You were from there?”

Caught by the notion that there might have been other survivors somewhere in the world, Dave stared. Then he turned away. Slowly, recklessly, he said to the sea, “The buildings were white. The land was fertile, and the fields were golden. The king wore gold and pink, and he loved his people, and his people loved him. They’re gone, and the world has forgotten them all. They might never have existed.”

“You remember them. Now you’ve told me, so I remember them. Would you like to tell me more?”

Dave was surprised by a sudden longing to talk about the past. “What was your name again?”

“Sylvando.”

“All right, Sylvando. If you won’t leave, I’ll bore you with all the secrets of my life’s story. I was born to a family of farmers...”

  


* * *

  


Sylvando proved to be an excellent listener, quiet until Dave paused, and then asking questions to draw him out further.

“You loved him, didn’t you?”

“Everyone loved King Arnout.”

“You loved him the way everyone loved him?”

“Hm. Even if I didn’t, he wasn’t the sort to take advantage of a subordinate. He lived and breathed that knight’s code.”

By the time the sun set, Dave had revealed far more than he’d done for anyone since the Fall. He admitted his identity as a captain in the navy and his appropriation of the ship, his choice to lead his crew in following that final order to rid the world of pirates. He spoke of his despair at finding king and country dead in his absence. He’d never spoken of that, even to his comrades in arms. It was easier to confess to the sympathetic stranger, who he had no reason to try to impress, than to the men who’d looked to him to claw some semblance of meaning and purpose out of the senseless fact of their survival.

“So there are others with you? Are you going to hold a memorial together?”

“No. They’re retired as of yesterday. Already heading inland by now, I think. 

“Retired?”

“Aye. It’s a fair choice. I’ve asked them to risk their lives for strangers for long enough. I’m none too sure I need to look for fights anymore, either. If people would exercise just a bit more caution with their ships and crew, they could ward off what’s left of the pirates on their own, these days. A lot of merchants have been getting careless since we got rid of the worst pirates, like their ships are invulnerable now, and that’s the only reason the newer pirates are having any success.”

“Well. Will you do something to mark the day on your own?”

“I don’t know. Usually we’d spend the day looking for a fight and then drinking after. It seems a bit pointless to do it right now, though.”

“Hmm. Well, what about doing something creative, instead? Like building a monument?”

“A monument? What, like a statue? I’m no artist, Sylvando.” Still, he felt wistful at the idea. Zwaardsrust deserved something to remind people that it had existed.

“Well, maybe we could work with a simpler concept than that. Maybe just a color. Pink was one of the king’s colors, right?” Sylvando gestured at Dave’s mask.

“Sure. Pink for his family, gold for royalty.”

“If you had to pick one or the other to remind people of him, which would it be?”

“Pink, I guess. Wait, what did you mean ‘we’?”

“How about if we paint things pink in a lot of different places?”

“‘We’?”

“Yes, I’m going to help. I know! What about ships? If people are too careless with their ships, can we give them a little gentle warning at the same time? Sneak up and paint them in the night.”

“You’re going to come with me and paint ships pink?”

“No good?” Sylvando gave him an apologetic half-smile.

“That would be a lot of paint.” Dave’s mouth twitched into a small, hidden smile, reminded of pranks pulled when he was only a recruit. “It would be closer to doable to only target a part of the ship. And politer to keep away from the figureheads, since folks paint those how they like them. Maybe the masts. If we could pull it off, it would certainly drive home a need for better security.”

“Perfect!” The younger man broke into a full smile like the sun coming from behind a cloud. “I’m a fair hand at climbing. If you can get the paint, you can rely on me to reach the top parts.”

Dave shook his head. “Why are you offering this?”

“Well. One, I’m hoping it will help you find something to smile over. Two, I do approve of people learning to keep themselves safe. Three, I’m hoping it will help the world remember something lost, in a way that may make folks smile more than cry over it. Isn’t that the better way to honor your good king?”

  


* * *

  


Dave spent the next day gathering supplies, hiring a young man at the docks to discreetly fetch some barrels of paint to his ship, and going himself to procure some expensive powdered sleeping herbs.

He went to watch Sylvando’s final show, a bit of magic and sleight-of-hand, fire breathing and pulling coins from behind children’s ears. The audience expressed dismay when he announced his departure. “You all knew this day would come, darlings. It brings a tear to my eye to leave behind your smiling faces, but I’ll depend on you to keep up the good cheer of your friends and family in my place.”

Then he brought Sylvando on board his ship. Showed him to a bunk. Felt the world turn sideways. This was the first time anyone not from Zwaardsrust had become anything like crew. They’d rescued a handful of captives from pirates over the years, but those folks had always disembarked at the next port.

“Thank you so much for letting me come along,” said Sylvando. “I know this is a serious undertaking, with a completely tragic history behind it, but I think this project is also rather lovely. I’m looking forward to working on it.”

Dave nodded curtly. “I’ll let you get settled. We’ll see what we can see after dusk.”

As darkness fell, they slipped outside, wearing dark cloaks. They found one harbor guard already asleep and the other two inattentive. Sylvando proved to be quiet on his feet when he wanted to be, and he silently climbed up to the wall above the guards with a portion of the sleeping powder, and he sprinkled it down on them. They waited until all the guards were asleep, then Sylvando leapt down and rejoined Dave, who waited with a pair of buckets and paintbrushes.

They set to work on all of the docked ships. Each ship had a proper rope ladder to reach the crow’s nest at the top of the mast, and Sylvando nimbly climbed up and hung off of it to reach the mast with his brush. He was quick about his work, and despite the more awkward position, he tended to finish his efforts at the upper part of the mast not long after Dave finished what he could reach from the deck.

Some ships kept their rigging anchored to the side railing at the lower end, and while the performer had a long reach, on the second ship, Sylvando couldn’t lean in far enough to reach the lower third of the mast. He climbed down and stood close to whisper, “Boost me up and let me stand on your shoulders.” Dave complied, and did his best to hold steady. The younger man was a bit heavier than he looked, but not beyond Dave’s capacity to lift, and he kept his balance atop Dave’s shoulders without difficulty. It didn’t take long for Sylvando to fill in the remaining surface and hop back down.

In the space of an hour or two, with another break to re-dose the guards, they finished painting the masts of all ten ships in the harbor, including Dave’s own ship. Dave developed a firm respect for Sylvando’s dexterity and agility. He’d have been glad to recruit a man with such skills for his crew, a decade ago.

They washed the paint off their hands in the water of the harbor and stole away below deck on Dave’s ship to rest and wait for the new day.

  


* * *

  


“My word! What a remarkable scene!” Sylvando exclaimed dramatically with a hand against his brow, when they went up for the first time in daylight. “How did this happen?”

Dave just shook his head, glad of the mask to hide his smile in front of the bystanders gathered on the docks to see the spectacle. The dockmaster spotted him and approached.

“Sir, I’m so sorry! We don’t know how this happened. The guards didn’t see anything last night.”

Dave waved a hand. “No harm done. You might want to think about upping the security in the future, though. Could be worse than a little paint, some other day.”

“I hope all our patrons are as great-hearted as you, sir.”

After the dockmaster left, Sylvando said, “Let me go start a rumor or two. Don’t worry, I’ll be discreet about it. I’ll be back in an hour.”

In the daylight, the pink was bright like the tulips in Arnout’s gardens in the spring. They’d done a decent job covering the entire surface of the masts, with no obvious gaps, though the brush strokes were visibly not uniform in direction, as he could see inspecting his own mast.

He brought up this observation to Sylvando when the other man returned, uncertain in his judgement as an art critic.

“Well, darling, if it bothers you, we could try to do it in a bit more orderly of a fashion next time, but it will slow down the process. Besides, personally, I think it adds more character. Tells a story, you know?”

“I guess so. Right. That’s fine, then.”

“Anyway, I brought some lunch.” Sylvando held out a cluster of skewers of assorted grilled seafood with a flourish, as though he was presenting a bouquet.

“Uh. Thanks.” Dave took the collection.

“Is there somewhere we should go to eat?”

“I’ll show you to the mess.”

“How nautical! I’m afraid I don’t know all the ship words, so I apologize in advance. That’s the dining room, right?”

Dave nodded, and led him to it, then hesitated.

“Oh, I’m sorry, darling. Should I hold that for you so you can take off the mask?”

“I...don’t take off the mask. In public.”

“Oh. But this isn’t really public, is it?”

“I’ve not shown my face to anyone new in ten years.”

“Oh, my. I see. Is it uncomfortable for you? Well, if you need me to, I can always turn my back.”

“Uh. I guess.”

Sylvando gave him a smile, took back the skewers, and spun on his heel, then exaggerated his motions while he walked over to the far bench and sat down with his back to the table. He leaned back, raising one arm backwards to offer the food over his shoulder, and crossed his ankles in front of him, pointedly looking away the whole while.

Dave stood still for another moment, then pulled off his mask, feeling like he was undressing, preparing to lounge around naked in a room with an inattentive stranger. But it was a little too much, too fast, to share his face. So he took the skewers back and ate facing the back of Sylvando’s head.

“So, we’ll take off after we eat? Find the next port?” The performer spoke toward the wall with his usual aplomb, as if they were sitting face to face.

“Aye. I was thinking we’ll try the bay near Puerto Valor.”

Sylvando froze, and Dave regretted not being able to see his face. “What is it?” he asked.

“I...I’ll help with the ships. I won’t go in the city, though.”

“All right. That’s not really necessary to accomplish the job, anyway. But...Is there a reason why?”

Sylvando bowed his head, and Dave heard him fidgeting with his skewers. “I suppose, since you’ve been so generous with your secrets, I could tell you one or two of mine. I grew up there. I had a bad fight with my family, because I didn’t want to...go into the family business. There were some hard words. I’m not prepared to go back.”

Dave watched Sylvando’s shoulders hunch forward, heard the old hurt threading through his voice. Felt a little helpless.

“Sylvando, you can turn around, if you want,” he offered impulsively. “I don’t suppose you’re going to sketch my face and hand it out.”

The shoulders straightened. “Are you sure, darling?”

“Sure. I’ve already given you the rest of my secrets, haven’t I? What’s one more?”

Sylvando turned slowly, as if giving him a chance to change his mind, then looked directly at him and studied his face with open curiosity. Dave looked down and fiddled with his food, feeling unaccustomed to the attention.

“Very striking. Were your navy uniforms pink?”

“Aye,” he mumbled.

“You must have cut quite the figure, that face, and pink together with your lavender hair. Ah, am I making you uncomfortable, honey? I’ll stop.”

“It’s fine.” He felt a little too warm, but it wasn’t unpleasant to have the young man complimenting his appearance. The attractive young man, he suddenly noticed.

“Thanks for trusting me, Dave.”

Dave ignored this and applied himself to the food.

  


* * *

  


Dave judged their supplies easily sufficient to continue without resupply, so they approached the ships in the bay near Puerto Valor by the light of the full moon, tossed some sleeping powder into the wind to stymie the lookouts, and snuck on board the four ships anchored there to apply more paint. They slipped away to the open sea without speaking to anyone and moved on toward the Emerald Coast.

  


* * *

  


The anniversary date occurred along the way.

Dave had his mask off when it hit him. They were sitting and playing cards, and he set a king of hearts face up on the table, and suddenly he couldn’t breathe for the grief.

“Oh, sweetheart,” said Sylvando. He came around to the near side of the table, put a hand on Dave’s back.

This was the first time anyone had touched Dave in years for any reason that wasn’t purely functional. There’d been no one since he’d sent his last lover beneath the waves, his then-first-mate, and they’d kept their affair secret so as to maintain decorum between officers, so he couldn’t even admit the extent of his sorrow.

So this touch broke him open, and he wept great, wracking sobs. It was the first time he’d actually shed tears over his lover, over Arnout, over his family, over Zwaardsrust. Someone had always needed him to be strong, and everything had felt too big to meaningfully mourn, anyway. But Sylvando put both arms around him, coaxed him to turn, and he ended up clutching at the other man, crushing his face into Sylvando’s chest, crumpling fistfuls of Sylvando’s tunic in his hands, and letting Sylvando stroke his hair, murmuring soft sympathy.

  


* * *

  


After that, Dave took turns passing through mortification and astonishment at having allowed himself to break down that way, but Sylvando acted as though it was a normal thing for him to have done and didn’t comment about it afterwards.

Dave found himself watching the younger man more closely during his daily routines. The performer practiced his juggling, his acrobatics, his music, his sleight of hand, as reliably as though he were a soldier performing drills, but then he would catch Dave watching him and he’d smile sweetly, suddenly turning the routine into a performance. His whole manner shifted subtly, from merely determined and focused into something confident and playful.

Dave let Sylvando watch his own routines, lifting weights and keeping his own body strong. He left his heavy battleaxe stowed, not in the mood for bladed weaponry, but he still drilled with a club. It was a fool who went onto the sea these days without being prepared to fight back a few monsters. He caught himself trying to show off, just a little. He wore the mask on deck, as always, and used it to watch Sylvando watching him lift and move a large, heavy barrel that a smaller man would have been sensible to roll.

They came up on another ship in the open sea during twilight. “Time for another work of art, darling?” Sylvando prompted.

They let loose the sleeping powder into the wind, and Dave let Sylvando hold the wheel while he adjusted the sails to match the speed of the other ship as they came alongside. Then Dave took the wheel back to ease closer, and Sylvando leapt across, landing with a spin that somehow prevented him from spilling any paint from his bucket. Dave watched Sylvando climb and paint the mast, arching from the rope ladder in a graceful, deliberate way that was a performance all on its own.

When he leapt back across to rejoin Dave, he gave another flourish of his bucket and bowed. “You’re a work of art yourself, aren’t you?” muttered Dave from the helm. He hadn’t meant for it to carry, but Sylvando gave him a sideways look as he came to take over the wheel again.

Later, they found a secluded bay to drop anchor and lie low for the rest of the night. Dave went to his cabin, but he barely had time to take off his mask before there was a knock on the door.

Sylvando stood in the doorway, shirtless. “Hello, darling. I think I may have gotten some paint on the back of my neck, but I can’t quite tell. Could you check for me?” There was a challenge in his eyes, and he moved a little too slowly when he turned around for it to be an innocent question. The motion was deliberate, drawing Dave’s eyes across the muscle of his shoulders, his back.

“Sylv, if you’re going to come into my cabin looking like that, you’d better tell me a safeword,” Dave growled.

Sylvando spun back, smiling, and stepped into the room. Closed the door. “Figleaf,” he said, and stood waiting, elegant and charming and willing and not breakable at all and Dave reached. Pulled him in for a rough kiss that turned into teeth and tongues and then wandering hands and stumbling towards the bunk.

  


* * *

  


Sylvando hardly stopped smiling the next day, and Dave watched him more openly than ever. Sylvando kept finding excuses to touch him, which made him forget what he was doing every time, and they made it to midday before Dave took him back down to the cabin again.

In the afternoon, they sighted another ship, and it turned towards them. Dave looked through the spyglass and recognized the ship as being a small courier out of Gallopolis, but there were too many people on board. “This might be trouble,” he sighed. “Could be couriers, but probably pirates.”

Sylvando took a turn with the glass as they came closer. “They’re just boys! That one there can’t be more than fourteen.”

“Aye. The youngest crew I’ve seen. It’s a shame when they turn bad so early.”

“What are you going to do?”

“It’ll be tricky to outrun them from here. This is a fast ship, but so is theirs. Depends on what the wind does, whether we can keep going with it or if it shifts to push us towards the cliffs. And...” Dave hesitated.

“And?”

“They may be boys, and they may be too young or stupid to have heard of Dave the Privateer, but if they’re acting pirates with a ship...It doesn’t sit right to just let them go. They could do some real harm to small merchant vessels.” He looked over at Sylvando, and suddenly his heart clenched. “No. We’re going to try to run. I won’t put you in danger if I can avoid it.”

Sylvando looked at him with a troubled expression. Then he sighed. “Do you think we could disable them without hurting them too badly?”

“We’re the wrong direction for the sleeping powder. They have the wind behind them.”

“I know. But I’ve seen you with your club, and if I can get onto the upwind end of their ship, I should be able to dodge around and powder some of them. Maybe I can make a bit of a paste of it for my knives and give them a scratch or two.”

“No, Sylv. I’m not taking a civilian into combat. Especially not you.”

“I can take care of myself.” His mouth took on a stubborn set. “If they’re untrained, I’m more worried about not doing permanent harm to them.”

Dave ignored this bravado. “It only takes one lucky hit, even for a veteran soldier. I won’t lose you that way.”

At that, Sylvando switched back from stubborn to gentle. “All right. Let’s try to run. But let’s talk out a backup plan once we’re underway, in case it doesn’t work.”

In the end, the wind shifted, and Dave had to turn to avoid the rocks, while the other ship advanced towards them at full speed. From there, it was only a matter of time.

Sylvando brought up the supplies for the backup plan Dave had reluctantly agreed to in spite of the danger to the performer. As Sylvando had pointed out, it wasn’t fair to keep him from trying to defend his own life. At least Sylvando’s part in the plan was less about combat and more about showmanship. The younger man had already tied on the pink band of cloth for a mask around his eyes, and he handed over Dave’s club. He wore a pair of daggers at his waist.

“You’re sure you don’t mind, Dave?”

“No. It’s not even dishonest. If any ship is haunted, it’s bound to be this one.”

When the other ship came into hailing distance, a very young man decked out in a fancy coat that was visibly too big for him stepped forward and shouted across, waving a sword as if it were a feather duster. “You’re outnumbered! Lay down your weapons, and we might not kill you when we take your ship!”

Sylvando struck a pose up in the crow’s nest and called out an answer. “We’ll not submit! But be warned! The ghosts of Zwaardsrust visited us last night and left their colors upon us! If they are drawn back by the sounds of battle upon the sea, they may be roused to malice rather than mischief!”

Some of the boys exchanged glances at that, but their leader brandished his weapon again. “Shut up! We’re not afraid of some kid’s story!”

“So be it! But if you somehow survive this day, repent your wicked ways before it is too late! The spirits won’t show mercy twice!”

Deciding the pirates weren’t going to try any particularly fancy maneuvering, Dave tied the wheel to keep it steady, and watched impassively, letting the pirates throw their grappling hooks to pull their ship in. He leaned on the railing at the top of the stairs, waiting.

As the first boys clambered across, Sylvando swung down on a rope over their heads, dropping sleeping powder in front of them. Then he dropped down on the deck of their ship and lured back the two who hadn’t begun the crossing.

Dave grimaced under his mask, but it was too late to recall his companion now. Instead, he called out, “Well? Are you men or boys?”

As he’d anticipated, this stung their pride and goaded them into charging forward with a yell, ignoring the threat from behind. Four of the boys caught a deep breath of the powder on the way and stumbled, and Dave dismissed them as disabled. The other five on his deck charged forward heedlessly.

One of them was smart enough to break away and head for the far stairs to circle around from behind, so Dave took a couple steps forward to meet the uncoordinated charge. He knocked away the first sword, kicked the boy in the chest to knock him back into his fellows. He aimed for the boys’ hands or arms with his club between parries, feeling little regret over the crunch of broken bones or their screams. If they were old enough to attack those they judged weak, with intent to kill, then they were old enough to face consequences. Maybe they’d learn from it.

He took a couple quick steps back to deal with the boy sneaking up beside him. He parried the blade with the metal cuff around his wrist and side-checked him, knocking him down. Then he saw a cloud of pink dust float past between the ships, which he’d watched Sylvando prepare earlier by scraping dried paint from a bucket, and now here was Sylvando back on board, launching another handful of sleeping powder towards the group on the stairs.

“The pink clouds! The ghosts are here!” Sylvando cried. “They’re draining the life from those they catch!” The boys gathered on the stairs turned, shouted in dismay to see so many of their companions fallen behind them, and then the sleeping dust reached them and they swayed and fell. Dave took some careful steps back and sideways out of the path of the various powders and circled the remaining boy, the flanker, who was in the middle of struggling to his feet.

Sylvando somehow scrambled up and over the railing of the upper deck without taking the stairs. He caught hold of the last boy by his sword arm. “Please!” Sylvando begged in a panicked tone. “We have to drop our weapons and stop fighting! If we only show them that we know the meaning of peace, maybe they will spare us!”

Forewarned, Dave cast his club away and raised his hands, watching the boy carefully to make sure he didn’t go after Sylvando. But the boy looked at the others collapsing on the stairs, and at Dave, and he dropped his own blade. Then Sylvando staggered, clutching at the boy’s shoulder and flicking up a bit more powder into his face before lurching to collapse dramatically at the boy’s feet. The boy’s expression flashed fear for an instant, then went slack as the powder took effect, and he went down as well.

Dave surveyed the decks for just a moment, then swiftly knelt to check on Sylvando, fearful that this was more than an act. But as he touched his arm, the performer opened one eye, and then sat up with a smile.

“Shall we honor the fallen with vengeful mischief, today, then?” Sylvando asked.

“Arnout wouldn’t have thought of it, but I think he’d be pleased,” answered Dave.

They removed the boys’ weapons and then carried their sleeping bodies back across to the other ship. They tied the boys’ feet together, which would be a hindrance and a nuisance for them, but they’d be able to escape it with a little effort. Then Sylvando brought over the paint, and they worked on the ship’s mast. Afterwards, Sylvando dropped another light dusting of sleeping powder on the boys and began to paint childish shapes on their faces: hearts and stars, polka dots, a teardrop down a cheek. “A little extra mischief to remember us by.”

Dave shook his head, mildly amused. “I’ll check below deck.”

He found three young children in one room. They began screaming at the sight of him.

“The pirate king!”

“A monster!”

“A demon!”

“Uh.” He backed out of the room.

Sylvando appeared in the hallway. “What happened?”

“Uh. Kids.”

“In there? Are they all right?”

The wailing continued, but “The monster king’s gonna eat us!” came out intelligibly. Sylvando looked at Dave, and his mouth twitched in poorly suppressed humor. Then he covered his mouth with his hand for a moment as if wiping away his expression. A moment later, he wore a calm, gentle smile, and he opened the door again. He knelt in the doorway.

“Hello, darlings! My name is Sylvando, and that was Dave. He’s a hero, not a monster king. He just wears a mask to scare the bad guys. What are you three doing here?”

The tallest child stopped wailing and the other two decreased in volume. “You’re not bad guys?”

“No, sweetie. We’re trying to help. Do you know the other boys on the ship?”

“They’re bad guys. They pushed Mamma and Pa off the ship.”

“They said we’re hot sages,” said the smallest child.

“Hostages? Can you tell me who your parents are?”

“Mamma and Pa.”

“What town are you from?”

“Gondolia,” said the tallest.

“Just in case your parents aren’t home yet, do you have any other family there? Aunts or uncles, grandparents?”

“Yeah. Our nonna and nonno are there. Our grandparents.”

“Well, if you’d like to come with us, we’ll see if we can’t get you home, okay?”

“Okay.” The three children nodded.

Dave said nothing, just ducked out of the way to let the procession pass by and head for the ladder.

“Dave, the ladder looks a bit steep for our friends. Want to give them a boost up to me?”

“Uh. Okay,” he said apprehensively.

He lifted the first child gingerly. “Ow,” said the girl, and he dropped her. She managed to land on her feet, and he was deeply relieved that the tears didn’t return.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

“Ah…” Sylvando curled a hand in front of his mouth, peering down from above. “How about if I pop back down, and you little ones can ride up on my shoulders, hmm?”

Dave backed away. “I’ll just go take a look behind the other doors. While I’m down here.”

“All right, honey.”

He found more weapons and a cache of jewelry, coins, and brandy, all of which he confiscated, and food, which he left alone. By the time he made it back above, Sylvando and the children had disappeared from view.

He found them in the mess back on his own ship, where Sylvando was handing out portions of bread and sausage. “There you are, darling. Do you need a hand with anything?”

“Nah. Let me drop this off and I’ll get us underway. If you can take care of...things here.”

He dropped the anchor on the other ship, then confiscated the grappling hooks and took his ship away from them. Turned for Gondolia with a small sigh, thinking of three days of children running around on his ship.

  


* * *

  


To Dave’s relief, Sylvando kept the children occupied and entertained.

Dave cooked a simple stew so Sylvando could stay with his charges, and brought it to the mess. He took a bowl for himself and turned to go.

“Darling, won’t you stay and have dinner with us?” Sylvando put a hand on his arm, and Dave reflexively flinched away, conscious of the other eyes in the room. Hurt flashed across the younger man’s face, and Dave felt heartless, but he still shook his head.

“I’ll be in my cabin if you need me.” He turned and left.

He sat on his bunk and held the bowl for a long while, feeling shaken. Thinking. Finally he noticed his meal was cold, and he took off the mask, made himself eat. Then put the mask back on.

A tap came on his door. “Come in,” he said.

Sylvando opened the door, hesitated, then slipped inside. “I put the children in an empty room. Told them they don’t have to sleep yet but they should stay put. Dave, are you angry with me?”

Dave sighed. “I’m not angry with you, Sylv. You’ve done a lot of good today.”

“You’ve got your mask on. You took it off to eat alone in here, and you put it back on again.” Sylvando’s arms were crossed, and he hovered near the door.

“Sylvando, I…” He struggled to find words. “I don’t know how you’ve done what you’ve done. With me. How you’ve gotten to all of my secrets. How it feels so normal already to take the mask off with you. How you...Sylv, I’ve not taken a lover in years. I’ve never openly taken a lover. It was complicated, as an officer.” He took off the mask and gave Sylvando his face, with whatever was written there. “I’ve not even revealed my face to a new person in a decade. I don’t think I want to. I don’t want the questions if someone recognizes me, and I’m used to strangers seeing the mask.”

Sylvando waited a moment, then came and tentatively sat down next to him. “But you’re okay with me?”

“Seems that way.”

Sylvando studied him a moment more. Then, “It also seems like you don’t care for children, much.”

“True enough. You made the right call, bringing them, but I’ll be grateful if you can keep them out from underfoot.”

“I can do that.” Sylvando looked down. “So, you don’t want to take the mask off in front of other people, and you don’t want me to touch you in public, either?”

“I’d appreciate that.”

“And children kept far away. All right.” He looked up with an awkward little smile. “Darling, I suppose I should warn you that although I’m smitten, this might not be a one true love, happily ever after kind of story. I want a family someday.”

Dave nodded. “I’ll not keep you from that, Sylv. But you’re right. I won’t help with it, either.”

Sylvando sighed. “Where does that leave us now, then?”

Dave felt his lips pull down. A tingle of fear built in the back of his head and trickled down his spine at the thought of Sylvando disappearing and leaving him alone again. “You’re free to do what you want. But I’d not like it if I never saw you again.”

Sylvando gave him a concerned look, and nodded. “Okay. How about, bare minimum, I’ll always visit when I see your ship.” He put a hand on Dave’s arm, and Dave drew in a sharp breath. The simple contact still triggered a pulse of desire, all the stronger for the spectre of losing this.

“Sylv, if you don’t want anything else to happen between us, you should go. For now.”

Sylvando hesitated. “And if I said I still wanted to stay here? For now?” His thumb slid just a little against Dave’s wrist and then stopped, a diffident invitation.

Dave responded by pushing him down onto the bunk and chasing Sylvando’s sudden answering smile with his teeth.

  


* * *

  


Later on, when the younger man lay curled against him, his breathing easing into sleep, Dave whispered into his hair. “Don’t disappear. Don’t make me lose you forever, too.”

A breath later, Sylvando mumbled, drowsy and indistinct, “I won’t. Won’t.”

  


* * *

  


They made it back to Gondolia with no mishaps. Dave watched Sylvando head into town with the smallest child riding on his shoulders and each of the other two holding his hands. Then he made his own arrangements to offload the weaponry and goods they’d taken from the pirate boys.

He overheard talk in the marketplace. “They say it’s happening everywhere. The masts of ships turn pink overnight.”

“I heard it was a fungus. Spreads from ship to ship.”

“I heard it was the last survivor of Zwaardsrust, rides a giant bat in the night and paints them in the army’s colors.”

“I heard it was ghosts. I heard a good wizard died in Zwaardsrust, used to do party tricks, and his ghost came out for the ten year anniversary to commemorate it.”

“Ten years already? And six since Dundrasil, I guess. Makes you think. Makes you appreciate what you have, while you have it.”

Dave discovered he was smiling against his mask. Some little good had come of their artistic efforts after all, then.

  


* * *

  


Dave found Sylvando juggling in the same spot he’d first met him. He watched, and this time he saw his companion’s interactions with the crowd as pure Sylvando. Arnout had loved his people. Sylvando loved everyone he met. Even pirates who were trying to kill him.

They walked south to the lagoon for a change of scenery. “Looks like your fans remembered you,” Dave commented.

“I almost didn’t go out there, but...Sometimes, I find the best way to make myself feel better is to try and cheer up some other people.”

“What happened?”

“The children’s parents haven’t made it back. Their grandparents, well, they’re glad to have the little ones, but I couldn’t give them better news about the rest of their family.”

“Ah. Sorry.”

“Did we do the right thing with the pirates? They went free, and that’s mostly my doing, isn’t it?”

Dave sighed. “There wasn’t any right thing to do. They needed to be stopped, and they also needed a second chance. If it’s a consolation, I don’t think they’ll make it if they do keep pirating. Three or four good guards would be able to wipe them out.”

“This is why I didn’t...didn’t want to go into the military. It’s never a poor choice to make people smile.”

“Is that what you would be doing if you hadn’t come with me? Still living in Gondolia, making people smile?”

“Not just Gondolia, darling. I need to go everywhere in the world. Bring smiles to everyone.”

Dave thought about that all the way back to the ship.

  


* * *

  


The harbor guard had increased, and Dave spotted guards posted on board most of the ships in the harbor as well, but Sylvando found the masters of the recently arrived ships that remained unpainted and somehow talked them all into arranging for their own masts to be painted pink.

“When it comes down to it, no one wants to be left behind by fashion,” he explained. “People are believing that nearly every ship in the sea has been painted.”

Dave led him down to sit in the mess. Took off his mask and sat down across the table.

“I heard some rumors in town about Zwaardsrust. Was that your doing?”

“Well, darling, I may have seeded a few stories.”

“I heard people remembering the Fall, and resolving to appreciate what they still have. I’m glad of it.”

Sylvando gave him a serious nod. “I hoped there might be some of that sort of thing.”

“Folks are saying the painted ships are being seen in every corner of the inner sea.”

“Well. Is that enough? Or do you want to keep going?”

“It’s enough. We’re about out of paint, anyway.”

Sylvando folded his hands on the tabletop. “What are you going to do now, then?”

“I’ve been thinking about that. If you’re willing…” Dave took a deep breath. “If you’re willing, I’d like to give you the ship.”

Sylvando looked at him blankly. “What?” he finally asked.

“You’re planning to travel the world, right? Perform everywhere. So, you’ll need transportation. I can take you wherever you need to go on the seas.”

Sylvando shifted in his seat, braced one elbow on the table and rested his chin in his hand. He offered a crooked smile. “Dave, leaving everything else aside, I’m good, but I’m not good enough, yet. I’m not going to bring in enough money to provision and maintain a ship.”

Dave waved a hand. “I can add some income with trading. I know a fair bit about the markets. We can work that out.”

“Why not take up trading for yourself, then?”

Dave frowned, trying to find the right words. “I don’t think I know how to live for myself. It feels like I’d just be passing time and waiting for the next doomsday to come along.”

“So you’re...trying to live for me?” Sylvando sat back and gave him a dismayed look. “Darling, I’m not sure I…”

“That’s not exactly it. Look. I’ve spent a decade following the final orders of a dead man. Serving in a navy for a kingdom that doesn’t exist anymore.” The blunt admission was painful, but he accepted the ache of it and continued. “I don’t know if it was worth the cost. And I think at some point it turned into habit, not duty. This memorial project is the first time I’ve gone out with a different end goal in mind besides fighting, and it felt...better. Good.” He rubbed a hand over the back of his head. “I’m not good at coming up with a vision for how to make the world better. You are. I want to sign up for your cause. Help you to make the world smile, if I can.”

“Well. Now I’m starting to think you know me too well, honey. How can I argue with that?”

“The ship deserves a fresh start, too. Never really got a chance to live out her intended purpose. I’ll open up the master cabin for you, and you can give her a new name.”

“You’re serious about giving me the ship? Dave, that’s too much.”

“She’s never properly been mine, anyway. She was meant for better things than I could give her.”

“Oh? And you think I’ll do better? Then you won’t mind if I name her, hmm. The Salty Stallion.” Sylvando raised his eyebrows in challenge.

Dave blinked, then broke into a rare deep belly laugh, the sort he’d not produced more than three or four times since the day he first laid eyes on the ship. “It’s not very traditional, but I think it might get a smile or two.”

Sylvando looked startled, then finally smiled. “Fine, honey, I’ll take your ship. But I reserve the right to give it back. That’ll be your punishment in case you try to start a mutiny.”

“A right stern ship’s master, you are.” Dave was smiling, too.

He found the key and took Sylvando with him to open the door that he’d only ever opened once.

“This room…”

“Wasn’t intended for navy sailors,” Dave admitted. “Won’t be fit for a king by now, though. I only went in one time, to inspect it on the first day.” He swung the door open and disturbed a thick swirl of dust. The air was musty but not foul. Moths had gotten to the bedspread and there was a trace of mildew just past the threshold of the doorway.

“This is…”

“Aye. You’ll have some work to do to make it pleasant.”

Sylvando gave him a long look, expression carefully neutral, and Dave waited.

Finally: “Dave. I’m never going to be your king.”

“No. You’re not. He was a great man, but he’s gone. It’s time I accepted that and moved forward.”

Sylvando eyed him for a few heartbeats longer. Lightly touched his arm for just a moment. Then stepped into the room to look around.

“Darling, there’s so much space!” Sylvando was suddenly all sweet enthusiasm. “I haven’t had so much space to live in since I, ah, since I had to share it with an entire circus troupe. Look at the windows. Oh, those mirrors!” He struck a pose and looked himself over.

Dave leaned against the doorway, watching him. Smiling. Thinking: if he can help even me to find smiles like these, imagine what he’s going to do for the world.


End file.
